


Paper Heart

by birdsandivory



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, Love Confessions, Love Letters, M/M, Married Life, Matt is a nERD, Post-Canon, Shatt, and shiro is a disaster, two grown men act like children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-18 19:12:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16522985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdsandivory/pseuds/birdsandivory
Summary: Shiro wrote a letter admitting to Matt that he has deep-rooted feelings for him. After never sending it, Matt discovers the note hidden in one of Shiro's drawers, and he fights for the right to read it.He should be allowed to.They're married now, after all.





	Paper Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kunfetti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kunfetti/gifts).



> Ahh, this pairing has taken over my life and I will use every opportunity I can to write something for them. I hope you all enjoy this married nonsense! 
> 
> Also, this one is for @kunfetti, who is a literal Queen and gives me life with her conversations. <3

“Give it back!”

“No way! It’s an envelope with _my_ name on it, that means it’s _mine_.”

Chasing a hysterical twenty-eight year old around their living room — over and across the sofa and coffee table — isn’t exactly how Shiro planned to spend his evening at home and away from his teaching job at the Garrison. In fact, spending the night off _at_ _home_ hadn’t been on the agenda at all. He expected that he and Matt would go and pick out gifts for the coming holidays, bicker over decorations for hours on end before they were tired enough to drive back, and spend a romantic evening wrapped in each other’s arms — catching up on their favorite television programs.

Dates are rare nowadays, after all.

It didn’t quite end up the way he had wanted it to, however, because he came back from work to Matt standing in front of his top drawer in their bedroom — looking wide-eyed at an old, yellowing envelope in his hands that held within it a note he’d written back when they were both students, the techie’s name in neat print across its face.

The moment the older man had spotted it, he could feel decade-old embarrassment creeping up from the depths.

And Matt hadn’t even read it yet.

Shiro didn’t want to give him the chance.

It became a wild follow then, and to any who could have seen them now, he thinks it must seem ridiculous — two grown men on either side of an overused sofa, arms spread wide and fingers twitching, staring each other down as they wait for an opening. Or, at least, Shiro is waiting for an opening. Matt seems determined to have his way, though, and he’s painstakingly aware that there’s nothing more dangerous than that.

He briefly thinks of the repercussions of just letting the other man _read_ the damned thing, but he remembers the horrific feelings of humiliation he felt writing it back then, and he hadn’t shown a single person — not even Keith, whom had suggested it offhandedly at the time. The last thing he wants is for a funny guy like Matt to never let him hear the end of it.

Taking a step to the right, he notices tawny eyes looking his way, the same movement mirrored by his counterpart giving him cause to sigh, because he can tell that the man is on alert and ready to sprint. He lets his hands fall to his sides, palms slapping against the fabric of his khakis. “Matt, this isn’t funny. I want it back _right now_.”

And really, he should know that a serious tone hasn’t worked on the other since he was an underling on the Kerberos Mission, but it never hurt to try. Matt just scoffs in a way that reminds Shiro of his sister, Pidge, crossing his arms over his chest — the envelope tucked neatly between them and bottom lip jutted in defiance.

“Over my dead body— _ahh!_ ” Shiro takes the opportunity to jump onto the body of the couch, running along the cushions and hopping awkwardly onto the floor in front of the man — wrapping his arms around him as he attempts to flee the scene. He frees the hand of his prosthesis to grab for the letter, but Matt has it effectively shielded from his reach, head tossing back against his shoulder as he laughs with a snort. “You’ll never take me alive, Shiro!”

“I can work with that!”

“Hey!” Squirming out of Shiro’s hold, he runs up and onto the coffee table, nearly losing his balance over the surface due to the fact that he’s wearing fuzzy socks, and he has to take a moment to ensure he doesn’t slip right off of the edge. Catching himself quickly, he stands tall over the other man, holding the envelope high above his head as he points to him with an accusing index. “No death threats.”

“Matt, please,” his voice is tired, stressed, but it doesn’t translate well enough to save him from the situation.

“Look, if you don’t let me do this now, I will forever bother you about it until the day we die — because we’re dying at the same time.” The techie speaks matter-of-factly, and he takes a seat where he stands, one finger already prying open the seal of the envelope. Shiro feels like he’s lost, because he doesn’t think Matt will give in and he doesn’t have the energy to fight him; the sight of pearly white teeth and a grand smile following semi-romantic words patches him up a bit, and he places his hands on his hips as the other continues. “Do you _really_ want to subject yourself to that? Because I also predict we’ll be living for a long time—”

“Fine.”

“Really?”

“Really,” a heavy weight falls upon the cushions of the sofa, and dark eyes follow the way his partner looks to him thoughtfully, pulling the folded paper from the confines of its home with care — opening it fully until his words meet the real world for the first time in years.

Shiro couldn’t stand to be bothered by the giddiness of the man’s expression; he just listens as he clears his throat, the first line sealing his fate.

“ _‘Mattie, you are the Coolest. Dude. Alive—’_ ”

“ _Matt_.” He groans, tossing his head back against the sofa with a padded ‘thud.’

“Okay, okay. It doesn’t say that, but boy, it’d be true if it did.” The smile he gives is softer now and goes straight to kick-starting Shiro’s heart, and he watches as the other adjusts himself on the coffee table more comfortably, letter in his hands and elbows on crossed legs. “ _‘Dear Matt, for the longest time, I’ve been afraid to tell you — but I can’t keep it to myself… anymore.’_ ”

His voice tapers into silence, already a croon to begin with and Shiro sees his every slight in expression, the amusement and delight he had displayed becomes a quiet wonder, lips pursing here and there — grip on the crinkled paper ever tighter. And it’s countless minutes that have passed when he realizes Matt had reached the end a while ago, eyes behind spectacles seemingly rereading each word over and over again.

He is sure it would eventually drive him mad.

“Say something.”

The request is a whisper, but it gets Matt’s attention — startles him, really — and it’s like he’s seeing Shiro for the first time all day, as if it had been himself and the confession and the professor had just stepped through the door. Sucking his bottom lip, he sees the man look between the note and himself several times before he exhales mirthfully. “Aww, babe, you had a crush on me?”

Shiro’s inwardly shaken, but he keeps level-headed when it comes to the quip. “Obviously. You know, since I married you.”

“Still.”

Shiro’s surprised to see that tawny eyes are wet, and that a confident face is looking downward in an effort to hide them. Moving from the couch, he drops to the floor in front of the man’s legs, reaching out to place his hands on the other’s knees and invading his line of sight. “Matt?”

“S-Shut up!” He answers right away, one hand separating from the love letter long enough for fingers to shove themselves beneath his frames, rubbing tears from freckled skin. “I’m not crying, you’re crying!”

Shiro smiles then, thinking himself foolish for ever keeping the note from Matt at all, even more so for believing he had anything to be ashamed or scared of. Grabbing gently for his husband’s hand, still pulling his face raw, he holds it between his two — fingers fiddling with the silver band around one of the techie’s own.

Matt sniffs deeply, unattractively, looking down at him as he waves the letter before them.

“Why didn’t you give this to me?” His bottom lip quivers and it reminds Shiro of when they were so much younger and he’d stepped on one of Matt’s miniature model rocket ships — _in his defense, he shouldn’t have been building them on the floor —_ and watched him fight back a bit of sniveling over the lost work. “We could have been together so much longer. You didn’t even say anything until… You never said _anything_ , even. _I’m_ the one who told _you_ I—”

“I was afraid — it’s in the first line.”

“Yeah,” he says to Shiro rather breathlessly, his eyes skimming neatly scrawled words in an effort to memorize them, a soft look on his face as he admires the way each line and curve becomes messier as the confession ends. Gazing up at the man once again, he looks a bit more like himself as the seconds tick by, eyes dancing with laughter. “I can’t believe you kept it and expected me not to find it. I mean, come on, I go through your underwear drawer all the time. I was bound to discover it.”

Shiro runs a hand through his hair, the familiar warmth of blood rushing to the surface of his skin flooding his face and neck. “And now that you _have_ , can I have it back?”

“Nope! It’s all mine.”

“I guess... that’s fair,” he relents. “It does have your name on it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream with me on Tumblr! I am [birdsandivory](http://birdsandivory.tumblr.com).


End file.
